


Mr. Harrison

by konacher7258



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Weight Gain, fat!Dean, fat!Sam, obesity, waddling porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konacher7258/pseuds/konacher7258
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John makes small talk with his neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Harrison

John's head is under the hood of the Impala when he becomes aware of his neighbor’s presence on the other side of the fence. The weight of his gaze prompts John to glance at where his boys are sitting in the yard but otherwise he ignores the other man and continues working. 

It only takes a few minutes for Mr. Harrison to speak up. “Your boys are getting pretty big,” he says conversationally. John straightens up and looks at him. He has hedge trimmers in his hands but John knows he’s been paying more attention to his sons than the bushes. 

John looks back over to where Sam and Dean are sitting, oblivious to their conversation. He has to admit that it’s a ridiculous sight, the two enormously obese teenagers planted on the lawn with flesh spilling everywhere, crushing the grass beneath them with their massive bodies. Their fat legs are spread and angled so that their guts can fill the space between their thighs, waves of flesh rolling in seemingly every direction. Sam supports his heavy arms by holding his hands on top of his belly. His palms are flat against his bulk as he intently watches Dean working on a spare car part. Dean’s using the expanse of his belly as a work space, balancing the part on his gut while he tinkers, occasionally bearing down so that the part all but disappears into his soft dough. John watches as Dean points at something in the grass and Sam struggles forward to pick it up—then sets a wrench on Dean’s belly in lieu of straining to hand it to him. 

“S’fine so long as they can still walk,” John replies noncommittally, turning his attention back to the Impala’s engine.

“You call that walking what they do?” Mr. Harrison scoffs. “They’d move faster if they were being rolled.”

John scowls at him for a second, then turns towards the yard. “Dean,” he barks. When his boy’s head jerks up in answer, he orders him to come over to say hello to Mr. Harrison. 

Dean immediately sets the tools down and begins the process of heaving himself up. It isn’t very quick, but not for lack of trying as he struggles onto his knees and then slowly gets to his feet. Once he’s standing he self-consciously yanks his shirt down over his massive paunch, letting the overhang of his gut trap the hem beneath it. His stomach is so massive that the soft underbelly hangs between his knees while his solid upper belly surges out in front of him, creating a gut that pushes his legs apart and forces him to hold his arms out for balance. The result is a waddle so slow and exaggerated that it would be comical if it weren’t so pathetic. Dean takes one arduous step and then pauses as his heavy footfall sets his entire body wobbling. He takes another, then another, slowly heaving himself across the yard. When he reaches the driveway he stops and pants a little, holds his belly as he breathes deeply. By now his belly has worked itself free of the shirt but he makes no move to fix it, letting the naked fat cover his thighs. With one more deep breath Dean continues his journey, arms out as he rocks from side to side, inching forward with determination. His uncovered gut bounces and swings between his legs but he ignores it and focuses on making his way to the fence where John and Mr. Harrison stand expectantly. 

By the time he gets there, he’s panting and sweating, too tired to do anything but hold his belly and breathe. John pats his back in a gesture somewhere between congratulations and consolation, saying, “good job, Dean. Feel good to get some exercise?” Dean nods obligingly and John squeezes his shoulder. Then his other hand smacks Dean in the belly, making his flab jiggle. “Put that gut away, though, we don’t want Mr. Harrison to have to see that.”

Dean stretches his shirt over his belly then dutifully says, “hello, Mr. Harrison.” 

“Hi, Dean,” Mr. Harrison smiles. “Good to see you’re still able to get around.”

“Uh…”

“He’s only getting bigger but I think he’ll be able to waddle around for a while longer,” John interjects.

“Like I said,” Mr. Harrison grins, “just roll him wherever he needs to go.”

“Better yet, move the fridge into the living room and he won’t need to move at all.”

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dean?” Mr. Harrison leers.

John eyes Mr. Harrison and then says, “Dean, why don’t you go back to playing now. Have Sam get you something to drink.

Dean nods and lumbers off across the driveway. John watches his slow progress for a second, then turns back to his neighbor.

“What?” Mr. Harrison demands.

“Laid it on a little thick.”

“Got carried away maybe.”

“S’okay. I got carried away too.” 

“It _is_ good to see how big they’re getting,” Mr. Harrison smiles slyly. 

“I’m sure it is.” John lets out a puff of laughter.

“Tell your boy I’ll roll him around when he’s too big to waddle.”

“I’ll roll him to your doorstep,” John smirks.


End file.
